Wisdom from the Ages

I will have poetry in my life. And adventure. And love. Love above all. No... not the artful postures of love, not playful and poetical games of love for the amusement of an evening, but love that... over-throws life. Unbiddable, ungovernable - like a riot in the heart, and nothing to be done, come ruin or rapture.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Clare, I want to tell you, again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust. Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and surround you, keep you, hold you.

There is only one page left to write on. I will fill it with words of only one syllable. I love. I have loved. I will love. It’s dark now and I am very tired. I love you, always. Time is nothing.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Full of warm tea and all the little pills and potions with which the Venetian has piled on me, I sleep most of the day and into the night. Once, when I awaken, I find him sitting on the edge of the bed facing me, his eyes pools of sweetness. "The fever has passed, you're lovely and cools now. Dormi, amore mio, dormi. Sleep, my love, sleep." I look at him, at his narrow hunched shoulders, his face still a picture of worry. He gets up to adjust the blanket, and I look at him bending over me in his faded underwear. I think he looks like the skinny man on the beach before he wrote away for his copy of "Muscle Culture."

Friday, December 18, 2009

You have gone back to Italy today. I miss you like I miss sunshine on rainy days in Paris when I plan a picnic with wine and baguettes, like when it is the last day in a city and I have a stomachache. I will miss you like the ocean would miss the pull of the moon. See you in 27 days.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

I got Minnetonka moccasins for the first time the other day, after many recommendations from friends and this is how I wore them. They are so comfortable but I only wore them for a few days and then there was a snowstorm in my city. Now they will have to wait for spring!

Friday, December 11, 2009

This is what has been on my nightstand for reading from November until now: the November issue of Conde Nast Traveler with a lovely article about Sicily, Dear John by Nicholas Sparks is a beautiful story but a heartbreaking one, "Hide This Italian Book" is helping me further my attempt to learn Italian by teaching me all the naughty words, and Petite Anglaise is the book that came from the blog by the same name about love found and lost in Paris.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

If at large gatherings or parties, or around people with whom you feel distant, your hands sometimes hang awkwardly at the ends of your arms- if you find yourself at a loss for what to do with them, overcome with sadness that comes when you recognize the foreignness of your own body-it's because your hands remember a time when the division between mind and body, brain and heart, what's inside and what's outside, was so much less. It's not that we've forgotten the language of gestures entirely. The habit of moving our hands while we speak is left over from it. Clapping, pointing, giving the thumbs-up: all artifacts of ancient gestures.

Holding hands, for example, is a way to remember how it feels to say nothing together. And at night, when it's too dark to see, we find it necessary to gesture on each other's bodies to make ourselves understood.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Monday, December 7, 2009

I believe if there's any kind of God it wouldn't be in any of us, not you or me but just this little space in between. If there's any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

I wanna drive. Until we get lost. Lie in a field staring up at the sky while you point out the Southern Cross. Somehow I know, without asking why, that you love me more in a minute than anyone could in a lifetime. Dancing in the parking lot while the band plays inside. Sweep me off my feet. Baby, marry me.

Monday, November 30, 2009

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Last weekend, Massimiliano and I made his first (and my 21st) gingerbread house. We used a simple package to build it, but we personalized it by creating gingerbread versions of ourselves. More yummy photos on the next post.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. (When Harry Met Sally)

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Monday, November 23, 2009

I used to dream of having one of those great romantic moments - walking through the arrivals gate and seeing him standing there. There would be slow motion running, he'd pick me up and twirl me around so happy to see me again. In reality my airport moments have always been significantly more tearful than the daydreams…Sobbing so hard after leaving him that even the customs lady looked at my with pity, talking to him on the phone from airport after airport, wishing i was somewhere - anywhere - but in an airport.

That final airport day was never going to be a Hollywood moment, the closest it came was the stickers on my luggage from LAX Airport. I was tired, I was jetlagged, I was ready to be at home. It all seems a bit of a blur to be honest - after my years of waiting for that moment I can't remember who i hugged first, or the expression on his face as I came through the gate. The only thing I remember is the feeling of being back on the ground, and wishing i'd brushed my hair before i got off the plane.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

It's the moment when the Beast wants to do something nice for Belle, whose greatest passion is books and reading. He blindfolds her, leads her into a room, and when she opens her eyes, he's given her his entire library.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

A.J.: You know what I was thinking?Grace Stamper: What?A.J.: I really don't think that the animal cracker qualifies as a cracker.Grace Stamper: Why?A.J.: Well cause it's sweet, which to me suggests cookie, I mean well putting cheese on something is sort of a defining characteristic of what makes a cracker a cracker. I don't know why I thought of that, I just...Grace Stamper: Baby, you have such sweet pillow talk.

Grace Stamper: Baby, do you think it's possible that there's someone doing this very same thing at this very same moment?A.J.: I hope so, otherwise, what the hell are we trying to save?

Thursday, June 11, 2009

“Stories can conquer fear, you know. They can make the heart bigger. The greatest stories are those that resonate our beginnings and intuit our endings, our mysterious origins and our numinous destinies, and dissolve them both into one.”

This is a photograph of my own collection of once upon a times and happy endings, new languages acquired, old ones forgotten, books of distant lands travelled, and the stories that inspire me to search for the kind of love that some say only exists in fiction.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

My little love at the moment is bows. They are the epitome of femininity and somehow always perk up an outfit with just enough girlish flare and innocence. Worn in the right way, it can also convey timeless elegance. Elegance. My favorite word.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Why is it that most people tend to find the person they end up with at the local Starbucks post-doubleshot-grande-caramel macchiato mix-up or while leisurely perusing through the cooking section of a bookstore chain? Having accumulated more than my fair share of air miles, hopping from one continent to the next, I always wonder why there are not more stories of love that spans oceans and time zones. To me, it just seems like the chances of finding “the one” you are meant for within a ten mile radius of where you grew up would be nothing short of obsolete, yet this tends to be the general trend. Perhaps fate favours convenience as I can say first-hand that tending to a love across the lovely pond we call the Atlantic is certainly not for the faint-of-heart, only the brave. Whatever the reason, if fate truly is kind and gives most of us a fellow with the same zip code, I am elated to be the exception to her kindness. I am looking for great love. The kind that people would want to write a book about- a charming prince, an unlikely principessa, exotic locales, and a "dragon" to slay. I dreamed of the inconvenient love and behold, dreams do come true.

Monday, June 8, 2009

I like to think that if I were ever a boy in love with a girl, I would recite this poem to her. There is nothing comparable to Neruda.

If suddenly you do not exist,if suddenly you are not living,I shall go on living.

I do not dare,I do not dare to write it,if you die.

I shall go on living.

For where a man has no voice,there, my voice.

Where blacks are beaten,I cannot be dead.When my brothers go to jailI shall go with them.

When victory,not my victory,but the great victoryarrives,even though I am mute I must speak;I shall see it come even though I am blind.

No, forgive me.If you are not living,if you, beloved, my love,if youhave died,all the leaves will fall in my breast,it will rain upon my soul night and day,the snow will burn my heart,I shall walk with cold and fire and death and snow,my feet will want to walk to where you sleep,butI shall go on living,because you wanted me to be,above all things,untamable,and, my love, because you know that I am not just one manbut all men.

About Me

I am a Canadian that should be living in Europe. I adore my other half of the apple that is currently an ocean apart from me in Italy, but next to that, I adore all things fabulous. Fabulous- days, nights, moments, people, looks, places. This blog is dedicated to all those fabulous things I come across, both locally in Canadia and from my love of travel abroad with a focus on romance, love, and happily ever afters...fare l'amore!